Alienation
by kamehamehamehamehame-chameleon
Summary: A collection of short chapters focusing on Piccolo's influence on Gohan, attempting to flesh out the world of Dragon Ball (especially Namekian culture and language) and presenting a darker take on a childhood spent in isolation and chaos. Presented in a non-chronological order. Mostly pre-Cell Saga. Major canon divergence - please read the notes for more details.
1. Reunion

**Author's Note:** I have been creating Dragon Ball fanfiction in my head since I was about nine years old, long before I knew what fanfiction was. I've never tried to write it down before, for various reasons, but I've resolved to start writing more and this feels like a good way to begin.

The most dramatic change from the canon that I've made is that, since I was little, I've imagined Gohan as a girl. There were no young girls for me to look up to in Dragon Ball Z and the name 'Gohan' doesn't have any connotations of gender in translation so it seemed like a simple enough swap. After 14 years I've never been able to shake the idea.

The second most dramatic change is that I decided that it made very little sense for Gohan to spend a year with Piccolo - with no human contact at all - and emerge the same cheerful, obedient, loving child we see at the end of the Saiyan Saga. At the same time, I wanted to explore Piccolo's character (probably too sympathetically but when you fall in love with a character at age nine you fall HARD) and decided he had memories of a culture and language that we never got to see.

The first snippet is my take on what happened when Dende wished everyone on Namek to Earth at the end of the Frieza/Namek Saga, because I showed it to Sifl-senpai and they were very supportive and lovely.

* * *

Dende was a gifted healer. He had been told many times of his great potential, and how, with further study and experience, he could grow up to be an Elder of his village, or a member of one of Namek's High Councils. It seemed a long time since anybody had spoken of anything so hopeful.

He struggled now, hands trembling, over Piccolo's body. The wounds were severe and diverse – lacerations, contusions, energy burns – and all needed immediate attention. It took three attempts before Dende could feel his healing energy begin to repair what Frieza had nearly destroyed. It nearly took more energy than he had to spare.

Exhausted, Dende sat back on his heels. There was nothing left for his people to do now but wait here on Earth and try to record who had survived. Looking at Piccolo, Dende desperately wished he could count Nail among them. In sleep, the quiet energy he radiated still felt like Nail's. A part of Dende didn't want Piccolo to wake up if it meant that Nail would be lost to the shadows of Piccolo's consciousness.

Piccolo soon woke, opening his eyes to the warm yellow sun of Earth. He scanned himself quickly – he was exhausted and disoriented, head swimming with thoughts that didn't feel like his, but no longer in pain. He took an experimental breath and let it out again without difficulty. How long had he been unconscious? There was no way of knowing now that they were – how? – on Earth. The last thing he remembered was a spacecraft, Gohan was saying…

 _Gohan!_

There was a vaguely familiar presence nearby, but when Piccolo turned his head to look he didn't recognise the little Namek child who was watching him. And yet, when he opened his mouth to speak, the child's name was already familiar on his tongue.

"Dende?" Piccolo's voice was hoarse. This was the first time he had experienced true waking since his time in the afterlife, and he wanted nothing more than to lie still and drift back into sleep. Grunting with effort, he forced himself to sit up, closing his eyes for just a moment in an attempt to stop his vision from blurring. "What happened?"

Piccolo's voice was gruff and cold, and he spoke in Terran. There was nothing of Nail in his words. Dende shrank back and did his best to answer calmly, as though he was addressing a stranger.

"I was instructed to wish us to Earth when the fighting on Namek threatened to destroy us all."

Dende cast his eyes down. He tried to focus on the novelty of speaking the Earth language as he plucked the words from Piccolo's mind. He could find no word for Nail – brother? Teacher? Mentor? Companion? Human relationships seemed far more complex than those he was familiar with, and yet Dende could not find human words to explain what he had lost. Earthlings had no words to explain the sudden incompleteness of his existence.

"PICCOLO!"

Gohan was a blur as she rushed to Piccolo's side, half-running half-flying as fast as her injured body would carry her. For a moment Dende thought she was going to barrel straight into Piccolo – he had learned on Namek that Earthlings enjoyed many kinds of physical contact – but she stopped herself in time, hovering shyly in the air.

Ah. Piccolo was not an Earthling, after all.

"Piccolo," she said again, beaming, as though she could hardly believe what she was seeing. "I… I was afraid… that…" When words failed her, Gohan blinked back a few tears and shook her head.

Before Piccolo could respond, the little girl switched to telepathic communication. No longer in any danger, she didn't bother to hide her energy or hold back her psychic abilities, and Dende was nearly knocked backwards from the sheer strength of her emotion. Some of it he could not begin to comprehend, as Gohan's emotional range was so different than what he knew, but Dende could understand what she wanted to say.

It was what he would have said to Nail, had things happened differently.

Piccolo evidently had no such difficulty understanding Gohan's garbled message. He got to his feet, his reply to gather the child into his arms and hold her close, so that she could rest her head under Piccolo's chin. The outward projection of emotions and memories stopped at once. With direct physical contact, they could communicate privately.

Dende turned his face away.

He didn't want to see this bizarre display of affection. He didn't want to see Piccolo having such an intense interaction with an Earthling – Dende knew he had been raised here, but even so, the sharing of their ancient language with others was taboo at best. It was true that on Namek Dende had spoken telepathically with Gohan, but this was different.

Looking around, he noticed that the Namek folk closest to the scene also drew back. They hid their disapproval, for the most part; after all, Piccolo had been fighting to save their whole world. Furthermore, he wasn't born on Namek. The same rules did not apply. He was distinctly Other, and nobody wanted to interfere with him.

Dende returned his attention to the scene before him as the two broke away from each other, Gohan chattering madly and her guardian offering an occasional comment. For a moment, Piccolo smiled, the faintest look of amusement crossing his features. It was a smile reserved for Gohan, Dende was certain.

Nail never smiled like that, his smiles were wide and open, but it made Dende feel alone just the same.

The human, Bulma, jogged over from where Gohan had come. Vegeta approached from the other side, but kept his distance. Gradually, the last Elders of Namek herded their people in their direction, gathering around the Great Elder nearby. Nobody spoke at first, but Dende knew they wanted answers.

He stepped forward, ready to begin his tale, but caught the eye of the Great Elder, who seemed to look straight though him. Dende scolded himself for focusing on his own grief when the Great Elder had lost so many. It only made Dende feel worse. He stalled.

The enormous old Namek smiled, sadly, then took a deep breath. His booming voice rang out across the plains.

"This, everyone, is a planet called Earth…"


	2. First Impressions

She was so, so _small_.

Bundled under his arm, Piccolo thought the kid probably weighed less than all her fancy clothing. If he hadn't seen her power in action – raw power, untrained and unpredictable, but incredible nonetheless – he would almost have thought that flying into the wind like this would be enough snap her in two. Thankfully she seemed to be as hard-headed as her father. Now he just needed to figure out how the hell to teach her how to fight.

Piccolo had never been taught anything in his life, not directly. Almost everything he knew he had inherited, either third-hand from Kami or from the first incarnation of Piccolo Daimao. But what he knew felt solid, and he was confident in his abilities. He would just have to make the kid follow his example.

He had to admit, though, that the battle today had shaken him badly. It wasn't just that Radditz was strong; Piccolo had never encountered anyone who fought like he had, and if the Earth was to stand a chance when the other Saiyans arrived he would have to figure out how Radditz had overpowered him so quickly.

Piccolo's battles on earth had all followed a similar pattern of physical combat and ki attacks in various combinations, and his inherited memories showed no deviations. Radditz had done something Piccolo had never even considered: he seemed to _manipulate his ki within his own body_ , in order to make his physical blows more powerful and make it simple to block energy attacks. Piccolo didn't know how that was possible, but he was determined to figure it out. Hopefully he could do that was well as training the kid.

He let these thoughts occupy his mind as he flew, glancing down every so often to look for a suitably remote training ground.

Above all else, Piccolo adamantly refused to think about the immense void suddenly left in his life where the desire to kill Son Goku used to be.

He chose an island big enough to keep a child busy, but small enough to be uninhabited. He touched down by a shallow river – best to leave her near a source of fresh water – and stretched out his arm to inspect his unconscious charge.

Unruly black hair like Goku, arranged in two long, unravelling braids which would need to be cut off as soon as possible. A complicated outfit, with an ornate belt tied over several layers of pink dress. One buckled shoe. No apparent injuries despite her explosive performance earlier; with any luck her alien blood made her sturdier than the average human. Piccolo shook her. Gohan made a sleepy noise and twitched her nose a little, but remained asleep.

Piccolo growled. Tiny, pampered brat.

"Wake up, you little tenderfoot," he muttered, tossing the child into the water.

Gohan woke screaming, grasping at the sandy riverbed as though she was out of her depth. She scrambled onto the bank shaking mud everywhere, coughing up water. It took a few seconds before she thought to look around to see what had happened to her this time.

When she saw Piccolo standing a few metres away, Gohan let out another piercing scream, although by the dazed look on her face Piccolo guessed it was more out of reflex than anything else.

He glared at her. He didn't know anything about children, but so far this one was turning out to be far too loud.

"Stop it."

Gohan met his gaze and continued screaming. This time, though, Piccolo thought he could sense defiance in her expression. Interesting: not ideal, but certainly better than blind fear, which is what he had been expecting. He grabbed her by the scruff and shook her, hard.

"SHUT. UP."

She did, after an initial yelp of surprise. Piccolo dropped her back on the ground. He watched as she bit back a cry of pain and settled for staring at him with murder in her eyes.

Much better.

"Good. Now, Gohan, do you know who I am?"

Gohan nodded, angrily, then stood up and attempted to straighten out her ruined clothing as she answered. "I know about you. You're Piccolo! My daddy told me about you. You tried to kill him before. Well he'll come here to find me and then you'll be sorry!"

"Your father is dead," Piccolo replied. He was amused at the kid's haughty attitude, considering she was covered in mud and barely came up to his knee, but he kept his voice level. He didn't exactly have any experience in this area but the death of a parent seemed like the kind of thing that had to be said solemnly.

When Gohan didn't react, he added, "The man who shut you up in that pod is dead too. But there are more men like him coming."

Gohan sniffed a little, but otherwise stayed calm.

"You're lying," she said, and made a show of looking away from him. She glanced back every few seconds to make sure he knew that she wasn't looking at him.

Piccolo ignored this.

"It's true," he said. "Your father has gone to the otherworld. He is going to train with one of the great teachers there. In time he will be wished back to life. In the meantime, you're going to stay here and train with me."

"I am?"

Gohan forgot to be haughty as she stared up at Piccolo, wide-eyed. She even took a step towards him. Piccolo raised an eye-ridge under his turban. He had been expecting a tantrum at this point, but now all of a sudden the kid looked like she couldn't believe her luck.

"That's right," Piccolo said. "You're going to be my student."

"No way!" Gohan exclaimed, grinning. "Mama said I wasn't allowed go train until I was older! But how come I have to train with you and not Master Roshi? She said if you ever found me you'd gobble me up."

Piccolo had to smirk at that. "I'm much stronger than your father's teacher ever was. And if you do everything I say, you will be too."

"And you don't want to eat me?"

Piccolo snorted. "No, kid. As long as you do what I tell you, I promise I won't eat you."

He flashed his fangs for effect and Gohan giggled nervously. This was going to be easier than he thought.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This is a very familiar scene which I'm sure has been done to death, but it's important and I hope I've made it unique.

My Gohan here is basically a mini-Chi-Chi, which I know is a big change, but gender is complicated and strange and I am convinced that Chi-Chi would treat a daughter (a PRINCESS no less) very differently than she would a son. I was particularly inspired by my five-year-old twin neighbours – they're amazing kids. In an emergency he would be the one crying and she would be straight-up threatening whoever was at fault. It's just how they are. Anyway Gohan will even out later.

Equally, I feel like Piccolo would deal much better with a confrontational child rather than a scared one. He still leaves her out in the wilderness, but they both feel a bit better about the whole thing.


	3. Wild Child - Part One

Author's Note: I never bought the idea that Gohan would be all smiles and sunshine and normalcy to to anybody after spending so much time alone with Piccolo. Nope. Not in MY angst fic.

* * *

Sometime in the small hours of the morning, Krillin sat alone in the Sons' kitchen, holding a mug of tea. He hoped Gohan had finally fallen asleep. She wasn't at all happy about having to be inside the house, and he wasn't at all confident that she would stay there through the night, but if she was asleep that was a victory, in his mind.

At the very least, he hoped that she had stopped crying.

What a day.

* * *

Krillin was training in the jungle when sensed the arrival of the two alien fighters like a punch in the gut. He had never felt anything like it. Despite all his instincts telling him to hide, Krillin forced himself to become airborne. He trembled. He had to defend his planet. He tried not to vomit.

The first thing he needed to do was find Piccolo, but Piccolo had been in hiding for the last year – probably so that nobody could try to rescue Gohan away from him. Krillin tried to sense him anyway, but he was overwhelmed by the power of the aliens. Oh hell, what if they were heading for a city?

Krillin closed his eyes, forced himself to relax. There was nothing for a moment, then _wham_. Piccolo began sending out his ki signal like a beacon. He must have felt the presence of the Saiyans too, and wanted to make sure that they would find him. There was someone with Piccolo, someone powerful. Was that Gohan?

Krillin sped towards the signal, praying he would arrive before the Saiyans did. It wasn't far.

As soon as Krillin touched down he felt an attack coming towards him, and instinctively he sprang into a defensive pose. In a strange way, he was glad; fighting was easier than worrying.

No attack came. Peering cross the valley, he saw Piccolo, all seven feet of him, standing with an arm out to catch Gohan, who had tried to rush towards Krillin before Piccolo caught her ankle mid-flight.

 _Was_ that Gohan? Krillin supposed that it must be, but it was hard to believe. The tiny girl was decked out in Piccolo's colours, and her hair was cut short. Even then it stuck out in a million directions, just like her dad's. Her hair was where the resemblance stopped.

Gohan was staring at him. She didn't look frightened, but she didn't seem glad to see him either. She just looked… intense and focused, like a coiled spring. Krillin hoped that Piccolo hadn't done anything terrible to her. Her ki felt just like Piccolo's, somehow: hard and cold. She hovered in the air, still ready to rush to him if Piccolo let her go.

"Hey!" Krillin yelled. He wasn't quite brave enough to march right up to Piccolo, but he sure as hell wasn't going to just let him keep Gohan away when she wanted to see him. He had known the kid since she was a baby, for Heaven's sake! "Leave her alone! Her dad and his friends are coming, you know – you can't keep her away from us any more!"

Piccolo laughed then, and it was the cruel laugh that Krilin remembered. He clenched his jaw and tried to remember that they were here to fight the Saiyans, not each other. Piccolo didn't notice. He barked something at Gohan, who returned to the ground obediently, looking puzzled.

Piccolo said, a note of amusement creeping into his voice, "She's not trying to run away from me, you idiot. She thought you were one of the Saiyans."

One of the _Saiyans_? Krillin supposed it was plausible that Gohan wouldn't recognise him after all this time, but that was too incredible.

Gohan whispered something to Piccolo, her big eyes wide. She kept close beside him, looking almost comically tiny next to Piccolo's leg. Every few seconds she glanced over at Krillin but she wouldn't maintain eye contact. She whispered again, and Piccolo shrugged.

"Go ask him yourself," he told her. "In _his_ language."

Gohan looked for a moment as though she would turn and hide behind Piccolo, but her curiosity seemed to win out and she took a few steps towards Krillin. She began to speak, too quietly for Krillin to hear, then stopped herself, frowning.

"Piccolo says you're a friend," she said, carefully. "He says that you know my family."

Krillin nodded, encouraging. He tried to tell himself that he wasn't freaked out by this tiny child who was more scared of him than she was of Piccolo.

Before he could say anything, they felt the Saiyans approach.

* * *

Gohan looked so peaceful when she was sleeping – even if it was the kind of sleep induced by turning into a giant monster gorilla. All the strange intensity that had marked her face all day was gone, and for the first time she actually looked like a six-year-old child. Krillin half expected her to start sucking her thumb. At Goku's request, he picked her up and carried her over to lie by her father.

"How is she?" Goku asked. "Is she all right?"

"She's fine – she's just exhausted by the transformation, that's all," Krillin replied. "That's one tough kid you got there."

Despite his shattered body, Goku was relaxed, looking like he was at peace, too. Krillin would never understand why, but it was always comforting to be around Goku. Even when he was half-dead, the man was a ray of sunshine. How he could possibly be a part of those brutish Saiyans' race Krillin would never understand.

Goku smiled.

"Yeah? That's good."

Krillin thought about mentioning the incident this morning where she almost attacked him, but thought better of it. Now wasn't the time, they could deal with the poor kid's psychological issues later. All the same, Krillin couldn't breathe easy just yet. His ears were ringing and his body was still pumping with adrenaline. When he saw a ship approaching from the sky, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

"It's all right," Goku mumbled. "It's Master Roshi."

He was right.

All their friends were eager to see that they were all right, and waved out of the windows as they approached. Chi-Chi shot out of the vehicle before it had even touched down, ignoring Krillin and practically throwing herself at her husband and child, wailing.

"GOOO-HAAAN! MY BABY! IS SHE ALL RIGHT? YOU POOR DARLING, MAMA'S HERE NOW, EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE JUST FINE."

Krillin left her to it. He realised that he was standing in a daze, and allowed himself to rest, flopping onto the ground like a ragdoll. He knew that while Chi-Chi was busy with her family, the rest of them were waiting for answers. As Yajirobe was bullied into finding a stretcher for Goku, Krillin began to recount what had happened that day to Bulma and Master Roshi.

They were interrupted by a shriek from the Son corner. Gohan was awake. The little girl was suddenly twenty feet away from her mother, unsteady on her feet, her enormous black eyes darting around wildly. She made a sound which could have been a growl.

Beside Krillin, Bulma covered her mouth with both hands in shock. He had almost forgotten that none of them had seen Gohan since she was a toddler in pigtails. Watching the scene, Krillin couldn't help but think of a story he had read once about a little boy who grew up alone in a forest, raised by animals. Piccolo had been there with Gohan, but Krillin wasn't sure that was enough to stop her from becoming... what was the word? Feral? He stood up.

"What's wrong honey?" Chi-Chi asked, her voice trembling a little. When Gohan didn't reply, Chi-Chi took a nervous step backwards towards her husband. "I just wanted to wrap you up so you wouldn't be cold…"

Gohan tugged a little at the sweater her mother had dressed her in, but otherwise ignored her. She scanned the group warily before her eyes found Krillin. Gohan stared at him for a moment, as though she was just remembering who he was, then raised her eyebrows and jerked her head towards her mother.

Krillin took a deep breath and tried to make his voice steady and cheerful. "It's all right, Gohan! These are our friends. You're safe. The battle's over, we won! The Saiyans are gone!"

Gohan turned her attention back towards her parents. Goku managed a smile for his daughter.

"Hey Gohan. Me and your mom are right here, ok?"

She ignored him. With one last glance at Krillin, Gohan took to the air and sped out of sight.

Chi-Chi started to cry. Bulma ordered Roshi and Yajirobe to get Goku inside. She crouched down, whispering to Krillin, "What's wrong with her?"

Krillin sighed.

"Piccolo's training made her pretty strong, but… I don't think she had seen another human being since he took her away. I think she's gone sort of wild."

 _Oh man, and Gohan is only half human to begin with..._

"Well," Bulma replied, frowning. "Maybe it's not that bad. I mean, Goku was half wild when I found him! Where do you think she's gone?"

"Probably back to the woods," Krillin said, sinking back to the ground. "But I don't know if I have the strength to find her right now…"

"The kid's heading towards the Lookout."

Krillin noticed Korin for the first time, and hastily bowed his head in greeting. Korin nodded back, smiling his enigmatic smile.

"Korin! Hello. But why would she be going there? I was up there for months and Gohan never visited."

"I don't know," the cat replied. "Maybe she can still feel Kami's energy up there, and she thinks it's Piccolo. Or maybe Piccolo told her to go there if anything ever happened. I can't tell you why, but that's where she's going."

Bulma chimed in, determined not to be left out. "But if Piccolo's dead then Kami's dead too, right?"

Korin idly began to scratch his ear with his great white paw. His calm, casual manner only made Krillin feel more tense. He forced himself to stay quiet and wait.

"That's right," Korin said. "But Kami's a tough old bird. Even if his other half is destroyed, I daresay he can last long enough to leave a message for the kid. Anyway, Popo is up there too. She'll be ok for a while."

Goku's stretcher was loaded carefully onto the plane. Chi-Chi made sure he was comfortable before racing back outside to inquire about her poor baby's whereabouts.

"Oh she must be so _scared_ , poor little thing, living without her mama for _so long_ and then having to fight some nasty aliens. Of _course_ she's confused, she probably doesn't even know what she's _doing_! That green monster probably threatened her not to come back to her family! Poor baby!"

She didn't seem to be waiting for a reply, so Krillin, Bulma and Korin ignored her. Together they herded her onto the airship and set off for the hospital. Krillin let Goku tell the rest of the story on the way while he rested his head against the window, his eyes closed.


	4. Wild Child - Part Two

**Author's Note:** I know in canon Krillin didn't meet Gohan until just before the whole kidnapping thing, but let's pretend that strange five-year gap didn't happen. I wrote and re-wrote a part with Chi-Chi, but I'm still finding her voice, I think. It just didn't work yet. But she's definitely coming into the spotlight soon!

* * *

Long before he could see the lookout, Krillin knew that Kami was gone. The huge, ornate structure which had always seemed to welcome him now felt cold; even as he landed on the Pavillion something inside him was telling him to leave. The Palace in front of him suddenly felt like a tomb.

And yet Gohan was in there, hiding. Krillin probably couldn't have found her in the chaos of battle, but in this huge, empty space her frantic energy was like a lone star in the night sky. _She must be terrified._ He walked slowly, waiting for her to notice his presence.

When Krillin was a child he had always been in trouble with the monks for feeding the stray animals that would hang around his temple. It never deterred him. Krillin had the kind of soft spot for animals that only develops from being ostracised by their peers. The key to earning their trust, he had learned, was to remain quiet and still for as long as it took for them to realise that you were not a threat.

When Krillin finally spotted Gohan peering at him from behind a column, she had the same look that he remembered from so many starving cats, desperate for help but always prepared to run at the first sign of danger.

She had abandoned Chi-Chi's sweater in favour of a ragged piece of blue fabric that she had fashioned into a tunic. It looked suspiciously like a piece of Kami's robe.

Krillin sat down and crossed his legs. _I am not a threat._

"Gohan?"

Gohan hissed something in reply, but it was in a language so strange it made him dizzy just listening to it. Namekian, Krillin supposed. He shook his head.

"I can't understand you, kiddo."

He saw Gohan take a moment to compose herself. She stepped forwards a little, never taking her eyes off him. When she spoke it was with the same slow, careful pronunciation that she had used this morning.

"Kami is dead. You are no longer welcome to stay here."

Whatever Krillin had expected, it wasn't that.

Krillin liked kids, generally, and he remembered being fond of Gohan when she was a toddler, but this was different. This six-year-old child was as skittish as his wild animals and as hostile as… well, as Piccolo. He had no idea if she would even understand that she had a family who was waiting for her. Honestly, she frightened him.

He had been prepared for tears, maybe a tantrum, maybe even fear, but not this. How on earth was he supposed to handle this? What had Piccolo _done_ to this kid?

Krillin tried to stay calm.

"I know that. You can't stay here either, Gohan. Your mom and dad are worried, they want you to come home to them."

Gohan cocked her head to the side, doglike.

"Kami told me that. He said there is a house in the mountains."

"That's right. Don't you remember?"

Gohan shrugged. She didn't make any sign of moving towards him. "I could go back to _my_ home. Where I live now. I could wait there."

"All alone?"

She shrugged again.

"Kami said there is a way to bring back the Dragon Balls. It will be possible to wish Piccolo back."

So _that's_ why she wasn't upset. Krillin didn't know if Kami knew that already or if he overheard Goku's conversation with his God in another dimension, but either way Gohan had found out.

Krillin tried a different approach.

"If we're going to bring back the Dragon Balls, we'll need your help."

Gohan considered this.

"Goku. The one who fought the Saiyan Vegeta. He's my father?"

"That's right."

"Will he teach me?"

Krillin smiled.

"I'm sure he will, once he's feeling better. Right now he's still in pretty bad shape from the fight. And I'm sure your mom will want to teach you too! She says you've been missing out on your education."

Gohan looked a bit sceptical, but nodded. She took a few steps towards him then sat down, cross-legged and back held straight. She had washed some of the grime off her face, Krillin noted, but she was still bruised and her swollen eye looked painful.

"Who are you, Krillin? I know you."

He nodded.

"I've been a friend of your dad for a long time. I'm your friend too, Gohan. I can remember when you were just a baby. Do you remember me?"

This time Gohan didn't shrug. She stared at him in her intense way, as if trying to decide whether she believed him or not.

"I don't know," she said, after a pause. "Piccolo remembered you, I can see you in his memories. My memory isn't very clear."

"Well, I guess you were very small." He willed himself to ignore the comment about Piccolo's memories, for now. They could ask her about that later.

"Where do you live? In the house in the mountains?"

"No, I live with my teacher. But tonight I think I will stay at your house. Is that all right with you?"

Gohan's eyes widened. "What?"

"Do you mind if I stay with your family tonight?"

"It's my decision?"

"Sure."

Gohan frowned. Krillin didn't think he had ever seen a child look so serious; now that he was a bit more used to her, he had to stop himself from smiling. It was almost funny, she looked just like Goku at first glance, but when you looked into her eyes there wasn't much to remind you of her father.

"Is the black-haired woman my mother?"

"Yes. She's missed you very much this past year."

"Didn't she know where I was?"

"Well, no, none of us did. Not really."

Gohan frowned again. She seemed to be making up her mind.

"I'll go with you to this house. I'm hungry. We should find something to eat before we go."

She stood up, and Krillin followed suit. When she took a step forward, Krillin noticed her stumble just slightly. While Krillin was bandaged up, Gohan hadn't received any medical attention since the fight. Her eyes were still wary.

"We can eat there, I guess. Are you all right? Can you fly?"

She didn't answer, just rose into the air and flew to the edge of the pavilion, ready to follow.

"Is this house far? I need to eat."

Krillin had the distinct impression that Gohan would eat _him_ if he weren't careful.

"No, kiddo, it's not far."

Gohan insisted on circling the house a few times before she entered. She seemed particularly interested in the windows, and spent a few minutes touching the glass, very gently. Krillin told himself to be patient. The kid was probably remembering all the details of the house all at once.

When she finally walked through the front door, Gohan was overwhelmed. She stood behind Krillin, obviously curious but too nervous to investigate alone. Gently, Krillin led her to the kitchen. If she was anything like her father, at least a good meal would cheer her up.

A brief inventory showed that while Chi-Chi had plenty of food in, none of it was ready-made. He'd have to cook something from scratch. Krillin turned to explain that dinner would take a little while, and found Gohan entranced by a basket of dinosaur eggs. She looked up at him.

"Can I have one?"

"Sure," Krillin said, then immediately winced as Gohan casually cracked the raw egg straight into her mouth.

"Er, Gohan? Why don't you let me cook something for you? It'll take a little longer but I promise it'll be tastier than raw egg."

Gohan looked sceptical. Krillin sighed, and passed her some fruit instead. It would do, for now.

She would be all right, for now.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Thank you so much to the three people who left comments! Come find me on tumblr (false-dawn) if you want to say hello!


	5. Dreams

He had expected it to take years, if ever, to form any sort of bond with Goku's half-breed child. In his short lifetime Piccolo had interacted with few people in any meaningful way – none of them children – and lacked any real childhood memories of his own to draw from.

For four months they had been sharing their wilderness home and learning how to communicate with each other. Piccolo had been impressed by how quickly Gohan adapted. She seldom cried or made any fuss about the situation; in fact it was almost eerie how easily she had accepted Piccolo as her new guardian. Then again, she had been raised by Goku and his friends. The poor kid probably just assumed that an experience like this was a normal part of childhood.

Gohan was sleeping now, draped over Piccolo's lap as he levitated at the mouth of Gohan's cave in a lotus position. Only four months, and already Piccolo felt fiercely protective of the little child – more so than he ever would have thought possible.

His reservations were based on more than just his own inexperience. Piccolo knew his people did not easily form bonds with other races. The Namekians' language relied on telepathy, for a start. Physical contact was primarily a means of communicating information through a psychic link. He had always been taciturn and self-contained, whereas earthlings were… different.

Then again, Piccolo had nobody of his own race to communicate with either, except for his other half up on the Lookout. Perhaps it was simply the case that, despite those barriers, any company was better than none. Maybe anybody would have filled that gap in Piccolo's life once he was free from the all-consuming need to kill Goku. Maybe he would have been able to find companions, if he had been willing to try. Maybe, given time...

Maybe. But Piccolo didn't think so. Looking fondly down at Gohan, Piccolo couldn't bring himself to believe that anyone else could have wormed their way into his heart quite like she had. Careful not to wake her, he rested a large green hand on her head. He could feel the strength of her _ki_ , vibrant and excitable, even in sleep. It was comforting, somehow.

Like Kami, Piccolo didn't need to sleep as such, and instead spent several hours each day in deep meditation. During this time he often had dream-like experiences. Old memories were re-visited and explored. This was the path to wisdom and strength.

Usually Piccolo's visions were nightmares.

Horrifying as they were, Piccolo had trained for a long time to have control over his emotional state, and so the nightmares didn't have much of an impact on his waking life. Until one night, when they did.

Although she was coming along well in other aspects of her training, Gohan still struggled with the idea of _ki_ and its applications, and Piccolo soon found that he lacked the vocabulary to even begin to explain without using his own language. The only education Piccolo ever received was second-hand, in the form of Kami's memories, and Kami had never taught a pupil who couldn't already manipulate energy. To his people, the study of one's _ki,_ like their natural telepathy, was a part of everyday life. If Kami had ever been taught the basics of its use, he had long since forgotten by Piccolo's time.

It had frustrated Piccolo to no end. Nothing he tried had any effect, and the more he tried the more frustrated and distracted Gohan would become. Piccolo cursed himself for stumbling at such a simple obstacle.

He had given up for the night and settled into a meditative trance. He was agitated, and he took nearly an hour to reach the deepest stage of reflection – only to be jolted from his vision almost as soon as it came by a small, sleepy figure patting his arm and murmuring softly.

"Gohan?" Piccolo hadn't even felt her stir, which was unusual. And she had never disturbed him like this in the night. "What are you doing?"

"You were having a bad dream," she said, as though it were obvious. "But it's all right, you're safe at home with me."

Piccolo had never experienced it before, but he could guess that Gohan was mimicking her parents comforting her after a nightmare. He was amused by the gesture, but there was something more important he needed to focus on.

"Gohan. Did I wake you up?"

Gohan yawned and rubbed her eyes. "No. But you were scared in your sleep so my dream told me to wake up to wake you up to stop you being scared. "

Piccolo looked down at the little girl and felt a sudden rush of affection. So his efforts to teach her to sense ki _were_ having some kind of effect, even if she didn't quite understand it yet. He ruffled her hair.

"Thanks kid. I'll be all right now, go back to sleep."

Gohan yawned, rubbing her eyes.

"Are you sure? I could sing you a lullaby if you want. I don't know the words but I could sing the song part."

Piccolo snorted.

"Go back to sleep, Gohan."

The next morning, however, Gohan still couldn't understand what had happened, and Piccolo's attempts to draw out her _ki_ failed just as they had before. He cursed himself for his blindness. There had to be a way.

When night fell, Gohan settled down on her makeshift bed of animal skins and heather as usual. Piccolo sat facing her, and waited for her to drift off to sleep. When he began his meditation he deliberately let his fears and frustrations cloud his mind; for the first time in his life, Piccolo attempted to induce one of his night terrors.

 _He saw himself, for the first time. Kami had fallen. He wanted to kill him but he knew (how?) that killing Kami would bring about his own death. He knew everything that Kami knew. He had seen so much, and every vision was fighting for limited space in his newly-formed mind. Piccolo screamed, and tiles shattered around him. He screamed, and found that he was weightless. He screamed…_

"PICCOLO!"

He forced himself to breathe normally before opening his eyes.

"What is it?"

Gohan was upset; whether because she could feel Piccolo's lingering fear or because he had been difficult to wake from his trance, he didn't know. She was clinging to his arm.

"You were really scared," she said, and Piccolo realised with horror that she was going to cry. Quickly he picked her up, holding her at arm's length and letting her stand on his knees. Although he had gotten used to Gohan's irritating need for physical contact, it was rare that he instigated it. It surprised her enough to stop her blubbing, at any rate.

"Gohan, how did you know I was having a nightmare?"

Gohan sniffed. "My dream told me. At first I didn't know what was wrong but then I looked in my dream and I could hear you. It was really loud only it wasn't a real noise, it was like you being scared was a noise."

"When you woke up, could you hear me?"

"In my head I could, not out loud. It was a really scary feeling."

That was a stronger reaction than last night, but that could be a result of the intense vision or Gohan's heightening senses. It was impossible to tell.

"When you touched my arm, what did you feel?"

"Like you were scared, and it was even louder. And then I tried to wake you up. The first time I couldn't but then I sort of tried to push the loud things in my head away and you woke up."

Piccolo broke out in a grin. He tossed Gohan a few feet in the air, making her giggle, then set her down on his knees again.

"That means you were using your _ki_ to sense me in your dream!"

Gohan was hesitant. "But I don't know how I did it."

"It doesn't matter. I know how I can teach you now. Soon you'll be able to use _ki_ blasts and sense energy like me."

"Okay…"

Piccolo released her shoulders. Gohan sat down on his knee – she loved levitating like this, and sometimes liked to pretend she was meditating like him. Now though, she was troubled.

"Hey. What's wrong, kid?"

"Will I have to feel your scary dreams again?"

Ah.

"No, I'll teach you how to close your mind from other people's influences."

"But… will you still have dreams like that?"

Piccolo could have laughed. Poor, sentimental little thing! Turning her into a warrior was going to take a lot more than teaching her how to fight.

"They're just dreams, Gohan. They don't frighten me."

"That one did."

Piccolo considered this. As it happened, she was right. He hadn't experienced a vision that intense for a long, long time and he was still shaken. Even more disturbing was that his 'nightmare' had given him a sort of grim warning. He would need to meditate properly until at least sunrise to clear his head. But Gohan didn't need to know that.

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm fine. Stop worrying about things you can't control."

She nodded, although she clearly didn't believe that he was unaffected. Piccolo considered ordering her to go back to bed, but knew she would be restless. That wouldn't do; he needed her at full strength tomorrow if his plan was going to work. He thought for a moment.

"All right, kid. If you're so concerned about me you can keep watch until I fall asleep. Then you'll know I'm ok."

Gohan beamed.

"Okay! I'll make sure you aren't scared. I promise."

Piccolo had to smile as the child settled into his lap to "keep watch", looking serious and focused. He closed his eyes and began to breathe as if deep in meditation. Within five minutes, Gohan was asleep.


	6. What's Best

**Author's Note:** So far I've been posting chapters that I had already written and posted on AO3, from now on updates are going to be much slower, I'm afraid. Thank you for all the support, I appreciate it!

* * *

"My mom wants to talk to you."

They were flying back towards Mount Paozu, having returned Dende to his family at the Briefs' compound in West City. The Namek folk insisted on being inside before night fell; coming from a planet with three suns, they instinctively feared and hated the dark. Dende could sometimes be persuaded to watch the sun set, but only within the relative safety of the Nameks' makeshift Capsule village. Gohan tried to be understanding, but Piccolo knew she was hurt each time Dende refused to stay and watch the stars with her.

Most of Dende's time over the past few weeks had been spent following Gohan around like a puppy, even though it meant leaving behind the other Namek children, who were too nervous to interact with either Gohan or Piccolo. The two of them were natural-born explorers, endlessly curious and eager to learn, and they spent their days happily investigating the flora and fauna of the Earth under Piccolo's watchful eye.

Piccolo wasn't sure exactly when he had made the decision to become guardian to both children. He had wondered at first if there was something of Nail left within him that regarded Dende with affection, but the two of them were still somewhat uneasy around each other without Gohan as a buffer. Then again, perhaps that was the effect of Nail's influence as well. There were reasons that Bonding was not a common practise, even among experienced Namek folk. It left behind too many emotional complications.

Even so, the three of them suited each other. After all, all three were aliens on this world, in their own ways. The concept of contentment was unfamiliar, but as Piccolo flew alongside his young charge, basking vicariously in her simply joys and excitements, he felt less alone than he had ever felt.

"Piccolo? She told me to tell you that she wants to talk to you about something."

Gohan spoke in the language of Earth, which she always did when she spoke about her family. It was impossible to speak about one's mother or father in a language which had no need for such distinctions. Piccolo said nothing.

"She doesn't like you. Why doesn't she like you?"

Gohan paused, waiting for an answer, but Piccolo remained silent.

"Krillin used to not like you, but now he does. Maybe mom will change her mind if you talk to her?"

Piccolo couldn't help rolling his eyes.

"I doubt it, kid."

They were approaching the house. Gohan slowed and turned to face her guardian with a hopeful look. The long evening shadows caught in her dark eyes.

"Please talk to her. It'll make her happy and when she's happy it's easier for me to talk to her."

Piccolo sighed. Whatever Goku's wife wanted to say to him, Piccolo couldn't imagine any possible way it would make her happy. But it made sense to talk to the kid's mother, he supposed, just this once. He nodded.

"Fine."

Chi-Chi opened the front door just as Piccolo and Gohan landed in the yard. She ignored Piccolo altogether – fine by him – and ran to Gohan, carrying a basket and a handful of coins.

"Gohan!" she cried, with an exaggerated cheeriness that was obviously false. "Sweetheart, you're late! I need you to run down to the Lappin farm for eggs so I can get started on dinner. Okay?"

Gohan nodded with genuine cheerfulness. "Okay, mom!"

As she took the basket, Gohan turned away from her mother. The kid was all smiles, her hair a mess and her skin rosy from a day spent in the sun, and instinctively she looked up at Piccolo, waiting for his approval before she obeyed her mother. Piccolo felt, not for the first time, awkward and embarrassed to be observed in this semi-parental role. Other people's reactions made this whole thing so damn _complicated._

He forced himself not to look at either of them, but he could feel Chi-Chi's hatred in that moment like a blow to the chest. It had been a long time since anybody had hated him like that; he had almost forgotten the feeling.

 _Demon._

 _Monster._

 _Evil._

He continued to stare off to one side, as though he hadn't noticed Gohan's attention, but telepathically he reached out and indicated that she should go. She obeyed at once.

Only when Gohan was out of sight did Piccolo turn towards Chi-Chi. He had never had much reason to notice this woman – Goku's wife, Gohan's mother. She was neither his ally nor his enemy, and although she was among the most powerful humans he had met, she wasn't strong enough to pose any kind of threat. Her expression now danced between revulsion and fury, as though she was being forced to choose between tearing him to pieces with her words or with her hands.

" _Why can't you just leave my little girl alone?_ "

Chi-Chi's voice trembled with the effort of staying calm, but she was fearless. She stood tall and strong, looking almost warlike against the fierce sunset. Now that he looked at her, Piccolo could see Gohan in her intense gaze. She reminded him of a time before Gohan had learned to control her emotions. He said nothing.

"When you took her away…. When my baby came back home after Goku defeated those Saiyans, she didn't recognise me," Chi-Chi said. "My own child didn't recognise me, and she didn't remember how to tie her shoes, and she never smiled, and at night she cried because _you_ weren't there."

While Goku's ki felt like a roaring bonfire, Chi-Chi's was a white-hot flame, intense and focused. He closed himself off from sensing any of Chi-Chi's emotions. He didn't understand, and it was distracting.

"I made up my mind that once you all came back from outer space Gohan was going to settle down and concentrate on her schoolwork like a normal little girl. I wanted to keep her away from all this madness! She's only six years old, damn it! But when you all came back…"

Chi-Chi angrily flipped a lock of hair out of her face. Tears were beginning to form in her eyes, but she held her head high all the same.

"When I saw my Gohan with that alien boy in Bulma's garden, she was laughing. And I thought: maybe a friend her own age, even an alien, might be good for her. It was the first time I'd seen her with a child… it was the first time I'd seen her _laugh_ since you stole her away from me."

Chi-Chi began wringing her hands. Piccolo wondered if she would try to strangle him, and reminded himself not to push her away with too much force if she did.

"In any other circumstances I wouldn't allow these outings to see you and that child every day, but if this is what it takes to make her happy, so be it. She gets to play like a normal little girl with the alien kid, and even if it's not quite what I want for her, it's a stepping stone to a normal life. But where do _you_ fit into all this? Haven't you done enough, 'Mr Piccolo'? She adores you, you know, although I can't imagine why after everything you've put her though, and you're only going to make it even more painful for her when you and the other aliens leave for wherever it is that you're going – "

When Piccolo interrupted, he spoke slowly and carefully.

"I don't know what you've heard, but I'm not going anywhere."

Chi-Chi actually took a step back, horrified.

"But… I thought the Namek people were just waiting for the Dragon Balls…"

Piccolo laughed. He couldn't help it. This woman, so full of anger and resentment, knew absolutely nothing about him. She had obviously never asked Gohan about the part of her life that contained the Demon King himself.

"Listen: I'm not one of those people," he said. "They don't want me. I was born on Earth. To them, I'm just as alien as you are."

"So… you're…"

"I'm staying. For as long as Gohan wants, I'll be at her side. I'm her teacher. I belong here."

He shrugged. Piccolo could feel Gohan's energy signature rushing back towards them.

"You might not believe it, but I want what's best for her too."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This chapter was by far the hardest to write, oh my gosh.

User **Namon** , thank you so much for your lovely review! I'm so happy that people are interested in my strange headcanons, especially the gender thing, and I really appreciate your support. I hope I continue to hold your interest!

I've just realised I didn't have Private Messages turned on, so everyone please feel free to come say hi, or recommend fics, or chat about Dragon Ball headcanons! Or come find me on Tumblr, I'm false-dawn.


	7. Everything Not Forbidden

"If I were to use the Dragon Balls," said Gohan, staring dreamily into the fire. "To make myself live forever, like Vegeta wanted to do…"

Piccolo said nothing, but he felt something within his heart constrict painfully.

"I could take on all the evil in the Universe myself, so that if I conquered it there would be none left, and, if I were defeated, I would be the one to suffer for it."

"You'd have to be just as arrogant as Vegeta to think of something like that," said Piccolo. "And you would be conquered, and you would suffer for it."

Gohan gazed into the fire. She barely registered the snarl in her mentor's voice.

"Maybe…"

 _"Gohan."_

Gohan snapped out of her daydream. She felt a prick of guilt; it had landed on her suddenly, like a spark from the fire, but she wasn't sure why. She looked up. Piccolo's eyes were clear, and calm, and yet somehow furious.

"Plenty have tried to use the Dragon's power for good," he said, slowly. This was a conversation that they would never have again. "Only to find themselves consumed by it. Wiser minds than yours have been driven mad by the potential for good that such power offers. Believe me that you would fail. And we would all suffer for it."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This was my brief love letter to T.H. White. It was stolen pretty much word-for-word from The Once and Future King, in which the character of King Arthur has always reminded me of Gohan.

I know this chapter was too short to be a chapter, it's really just to let everyone know that DO want to continue this story but my life has gotten cartoonishly complicated over the last few months.


	8. Empires Fall - Part One

Vegeta's ears were still ringing. There was still Namekian dirt under his fingernails, in his nose, in his mouth. He spat, but it didn't help much. Everything here was foreign, just as foreign as the blue-grassed hellscape he had been ungracefully buried in and then snatched from. If not more so; Vegeta was totally ignorant of this world and its inhabitants, really. He barely remembered the last time.

 _Find a good vantage point. Hidden. Safe. Where he could rest but also pick off anyone approaching… where..._

The colour of the plants, the level of oxygen in the air, the level of radiation from the sun, the texture of the stones, the minerals in the water… Everything was maddeningly unfamiliar, and he felt dazed, like he was an infant who had fallen and smacked his head. If he had prepared, if he had known, it could have been different. Like last time. Well... He felt his guts turn over and, furious, tried not to vomit.

 _Stupid,_ the voice in his head reminded him. It might have been his father, or Nappa when Vegeta had been a child, or even Frieza...Vegeta was too tired to think for himself. _Earth was an unknown. Even if he could find a scouter, there would be no data on file. He was the only one to have ever been here - and he hadn't been paying attention!_ The voice sneered. Vegeta threw up. _Pathetic._

He sat back against a tree, breathing hard. He needed to pull himself together so that he could… so that he could…

Gradually, sure as the cold sets in when night falls, Vegeta allowed himself to realise his fear. Over and over in his mind, he had imagined defeating Frieza, seizing his forces and creating a new order in the galaxy, a galaxy in which he sat on the highest throne. That image sustained him, it kept him alive through hell and nurtured his strength. Over and over and over again, Vegeta returned to this dream, holding it carefully in his mind, like something delicate and secret. Not his ambition; his secret was the sure and certain knowledge that he would live to achieve his victory.

Now, sitting in the dirt on a faraway world, he realised he had already died today, without achieving anything. Someone else had defeated Frieza - someone who never even had a stake in the game! - and the prospect of conquering the empire and ruling over the most feared army in the galaxy seemed pointless, childish, impossible, stupid! What would the satisfaction be now in trying to unite what must surely be scattered and chaotic forces? And why bother... What was the point now in climbing that ladder when you knew damn well that someone was already hovering around the top, waiting to knock you down again?

His head fucking _ached_.

He opened his eyes to find that - shit - the kid was there. She crept around on feather-light feet, and it pissed him off now just as it had pissed him off on Namek. It wasn't the way a Saiyan should behave. To make it worse, she was tiny, and cloaked her energy signature so well that his newfound power-sensing abilities were useless. She might as well have been a ghost.

Hell, maybe she was; maybe she was the ghost of all the Saiyan children destroyed on his homeworld while he was away cracking skulls for a tyrant that he was too late to overpower, come back to haunt him...

Stupid thought. Maudlin. But she was no Saiyan child, of that he was sure. Not really. A dragon raised by insects might look like a dragon, but it'll scurry down a hole at the first sign of danger.

He spat again. He tasted bile.

"What do you want?"

He cursed at the weakness he could hear in his own voice. He was tired. Fuck, he was exhausted.

"They've made food," the kid said. She wasn't shy or scared, Vegeta noticed, just quiet. Her enormous black eyes were as guarded as her power, revealing nothing. Somehow, now that they were no longer in a combat situation, she seemed even smaller. If he stood, the little half-breed would barely come up to his hip.

When he didn't answer, the kid shrugged. "It's in the house,"she said, and turned and walked towards the largest building on the estate. Vegeta considered it, spat once more, and followed.

It was strange; he would rather have died than accept kindness from the humans or the green-skinned aliens, but the kid gave him the impression that she didn't really care what he did. He could live with that kind of assistance, provided it remained this detached.

Although it was large, the house, to Vegeta's surprise, seemed rustic, with fewer computer systems than the average Sayian survival training cabin. Each room had to be lit manually by a switch, the air temperature was erratic, there seemed to be no electronic security… But when he scouted out the perimeter of the land earlier, they appeared to be in the middle of a city. With growing unease, he hoped the Earthlings were more technologically competent than they looked.

The kid explained things as they walked. The light switches, the rooms for hygiene, the timekeeping devices. She wasn't condescending; in fact it seemed like she didn't take any of this information for granted. Too tired to figure out whether to be irritated by her chatter, he simply accepted the information in silence.

Mercifully, when they arrived in the kitchen - left empty for them - the child was content to eat in silence. Vegeta was so hungry he barely tasted what was in front of him. When was the last time he had eaten? Time seemed meaningless today. If he had been more alert, he would have admitted to himself that real food was a welcome change. Anything was better than nutritionally-perfect tasteless military rations.

Vegeta did not think. He did not think about Frieza, and did not think of a future.

He ate.

He tasted fear.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Hello! Sorry this took like six months to write, I've been really unwell and my brain has been non-functional. You know when you have a really bad cold and your sinuses are all messed up and it hurts your brain to read a book or do basic addition and subtraction in your head? That's me on my meds right now. But! Everything is getting better every day and I will do my best to keep writing (if only for me). Thanks as always for reading!

I'm false-dawn on Tumblr, come say hello any time!


	9. Empires Fall - Part 2

A loud, girlish scream ripped through Vegeta's headache like a needle through flesh.

Even defeated and exhausted, Vegeta had been training for combat his whole life, and his instincts took control. He leaped to his feet, ready for action, heart racing much faster than he was comfortable with. A quick scan of the room was enough to let him relax again, however; it was just the earth woman, as shrill and as melodramatic as she had been the last time they met. Stupid. He snarled vaguely in her direction before returning to his food.

He concentrated on his plate. He didn't want to think of anything. Better to focus on the little things around him in this new environment, adapt as quickly as possible. This thing in his hand was definitely meat but for some reason it had been processed and re-assembled into small balls. It must be food for babies, surely, without teeth to chew the meat for themselves. It tasted good, though, so he kept going.

The kid sat at the other end of the table, mostly hidden from view by the mountains of food laid out for them. When she was visible at all, only her spiky back hair was tall enough to bob in and out of Vegeta's vision. Gohan had stayed silent for the most part as they ate, but now she turned to the woman - still in hysterics - and spoke. Her voice was low and serious. Vegeta hated it. It wasn't _right_ for a little kid to speak like that, like she was so much wiser than everyone. To stare at him like he was a strange inanimate thing, interesting yet harmless. It wasn't right. He remembered, as a child, the triumphant hours after the adults came back from battle, as he listened to their stories with delight. He would often get a smack around the head for talking too much, asking too many questions, because it was too hard to stay well-behaved when there was so much excitement going on. When Vegeta was her age, being allowed to hear those war stories was the most thrilling thing in his young life.

Once again, she reminded Vegeta of a ghost, and once again just the thought was enough to make him uneasy.

Gohan got up to comfort the woman, stood between the two adults in a bid to keep the peace. She even managed to quiet the screaming, but the woman - what was her name, this blue-haired pest? had he ever known it? - continued to babble at full volume. Vegeta couldn't understand a word, for which he was glad, although it occurred to him that he had better adjust his translator settings at some point soon with his... scouter...

Wait.

SHIT.

He could understand them all before. On Namek. When had that changed? Maybe... shit, maybe something had happened to his neural implant. They were designed to withstand almost any physical punishment, but not _brain death_. So maybe it hadn't come back online properly. How long had he been dead? Impossible to say on a planet without night. He listened closely to the Earthlings, a creeping fear threatening to choke him where he sat. He couldn't understand a word.

He could try to reboot the damn thing if he had the right tools - even a scouter might work, if he was lucky. If the implant still worked at all. No, it would work. It had to work. He just needed to find... and where the hell was he going to get a scouter on this damn planet? They still used clunky, awkward buttons just to switch on their inefficient light machines. And Vegeta didn't know how to build one from scratch.

The Earthlings were still at it, chattering away like birds. Vegeta took a careful breath, and forced his boiling, bubbling fear back down. The pressure within him turned to rage, and rage he was comfortable with. He had been using it to his advantage his entire adult life, and it was familiar to him. He could work with rage. He growled low in his throat, letting his fury take hold.

"Shut UP," he roared. His voice wasn't as powerful as he wanted it to be, after his ordeal. It hit a nerve. _Poor Vegeta. Pathetic. Lost. Friendless._ He pushed it down. Used it as fuel.

"Shut up and leave me alone. I need to think!"

He knew they wouldn't understand, but in Vegeta's experience shouting usually got the idea across. The woman looked absolutely terrified- her pale skin was practically turning the colour of her hair. Good!

But the kid was a different story. She looked at him and then looked at the woman - who was actually trembling, how pathetic! The kid spoke quietly, then looked back at him, and calm and studious.

"Good," said Vegeta, rubbing a crick in his neck. Fuck, he was tired. "Now stay quiet, I need to figure this out."

The kid spoke again to the woman, very softly this time, and again turned back to him.

Vegeta glared at them both. Something was going on behind his back, unless... Was the kid _translating_?

"HEY," Vegeta snapped, exhausted and nearing his daily limit for diplomatic alien contact. He was relieved to have a target to direct it all towards at last. "Little girl. Can you understand me?"

Gohan nodded. She looked at him as she always did, her big dark eyes giving him her full attention. When she spoke, her voice was hesitant. But she spoke words that Vegeta could understand.

"Yes," she said. "But it's difficult."

The Earth woman said something to the kid then, obviously nervous. Her huge hairdo wobbled as she shook in fear, adding to the entirely ridiculous picture as she attempted to hide behind a five-year-old. Vegeta realised for the first time that the language that she spoke was not the same one Gohan was using to speak to him. The woman was just making noise as far as Vegeta was concerned, but the kid seemed to speak in a way that got into his head just like his translator usually did. Vegeta allowed himself to believe that his neural implant wasn't completely broken after all. He had to believe it. Being stuck on this planet was bad enough without being completely unable to communicate.

"Explain how," Vegeta told the kid. "And why can I understand you? TALK."

"When I spoke to you outside, I noticed that you couldn't understand me. So I tried speaking this way; this is the way the Namek folk speak."

She paused for a just a second, enough to make Vegeta wonder if she was telling him everything. He realised he was fiddling with something on his plate - a bone of some unknown animal - and flung it to the floor.

"Keep talking, brat," he barked.

"Well, everyone can understand it when I talk like this, I think. The Namek language works differently to the other languages I've heard. Lots of it is psychic, so you don't need to talk as much. You have to explain what you mean to say, in your mind, as you speak."

Vegeta growled, took a step towards her. He didn't like where this was going. Behind Gohan, the Earth Woman shrieked and scurried to hide behind a counter. Gohan didn't move.

"By the same principles," she said. "I can understand you, mostly."

"You're sneaking into my head right now?" Vegeta clenched and unclenched his fists. He was becoming desperate to lash out, start a confrontation. Preferably physical. Even if it was with a child. _Picking fights with snivelling little brats now? Pathetic._ "You're trying to get inside my mind?"

Gohan just shrugged.

"No. Not really. Just the part that controls speaking. Only what you are speaking. Only just enough to understand."

This was too much. Vegeta's head was spinning. First things first, before this got any weirder.

"FINE," he said, throwing his hands up before slamming his fist onto the table. Only enough to crack it. He still had his self-control.

"Whatever. I need to fix this now. I need a scouter. Go find one for me."

Gohan blinked up at him. "A what?"

 _Shit_.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

Whoops it has been a year. I am sort of back. My life is sort of insane, there hasn't been much room in my mind for Dragonball Z stuff, to be completely honest with you. But I appreciate every single one of you who was optimistic enough to subscribe to this little thing. It means a lot!


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